


Power

by SonLascivious



Series: Kingsglaive Final Moments [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Death, Drabble, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27501814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonLascivious/pseuds/SonLascivious
Summary: Luche struggles to come to grips with why his intentions are any less pure than anyone else's.
Series: Kingsglaive Final Moments [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009896





	Power

“So many dead and over so simple a thing. But why? For what?”

“Power. Untold power, beyond the control of someone like you.”

“Power?”

Luche hadn’t know that would be the last thing anyone ever heard him say. All he had wanted was to take Galahd back. It hadn’t been about being greedy or in need of power itself. The ring that suddenly felt so heavy in his hand should have been his key to protecting his home without having to side with Nifleheim. He knew the Empire was just as guilty in taking his home as Lucis had been guilty in giving it up. He never wanted to side with the Empire, but Regis was never going to take back Galahd and all his work as a glaive was for nothing. He forced himself to believe the Empire would give them back their homes as much as the captain had. But now he held what he thought was his path to becoming the savior of his home without taking a side that wasn’t purely for Galahd.

The second he slid the ring on his finger the smug look on the princess’s face seemed to freeze in place, as did everything else around him, and suddenly he was in darkness and surrounded by the past Lucian kings. Their presence was overwhelming though he would never show it. Showing that would be showing weakness to the kings and that was the last thing he needed.

“Not of royal blood nor oracle blood. Who dares put on the ring?” The deep rumble of the eldest king held a tone of condescension that pissed Luche off.

“I am Luche Lazarus and I demand your power to take back my home.” His voice held an heir of superiority that might have earned him some level of respect had he been speaking with any other audience.

“You would demand the power of Lucian kings after destroying their home?”

“After they let mine be shackled and destroyed. I did what I had to.”

“A pitiful excuse from a pitiful existence. You are not worthy, nor will you ever be.”

A rage boiled deep within Luche. How could they be so blind that one city would be worth more than the entirety of the lands that had given up years ago? How could they discount him as nothing but a speck when all he wanted to do was live a life without war where what family he had left could live safely? How could one bloodline be so much more important than the entirety of their people?

That rage grew, burning in his chest until it hurt, and he could no longer argue. The pain grew until it engulfed him and the fire in his heart and his eyes manifested upon his physical body and the pain was unbearable. He couldn’t help the screams of both fear and agonizing pain that ripped from his throat as he tried to grasp what was happening. And just when he thought he would fall over the bannister that earlier had trapped the ring in his path everything went black.


End file.
